Sonny liked Simon, although he could become overbearing at times. They had worked together on the small speaker line in August. Josh had talked Bill into giving Simon a chance at the job; Simon would have never succeeded on the strength of his interview. He was not all there, as Josh had explained it.
It was a sad story. When he was a young child, his parents were driving to the beach for the day. Simon was in the backseat, his mind occupied on whatever children occupy their minds with on such long trips. A truck hit them head-on, killing both his parents, and seriously injuring Simon. Whether it was the physical brain damage or the psychological trauma that caused Simon’s ultimate condition, Josh just didn’t know.
Sonny wondered at Simon’s state. He was the most innocent person he had ever known, yet extremely intelligent—about certain things. He knew everything there was to know about the Beatles, and could literally recite any song verse at a moment’s notice, and often he would spontaneously begin declaiming a lyric out of the clear blue sky. There was no social conditioning there; what you saw is what you got. This often resulted in moments of brutal honesty or awkward confession, but Sonny never felt as if he was being manipulated in any direction.
In September, when Sonny began to work the second shift assembling woofers, he would walk past the small speaker line every day on his way to his station. Simon was always there smiling with his usual greeting.
“Here comes the Sun King!”
Sonny was always unsure just how to react to that welcome. So some days he was silent, and others, he’d just echo Simon’s words.
Either way, Simon would respond joyfully, as if speaking to himself, “Quando paramucho mi amore de felice carathon.” Then, he’d just go back to work.
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